


Happy Days Are Here Again

by curiouslyblessed



Category: Original Work
Genre: Buster Keaton - Freeform, Gen, Humor, silent film fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslyblessed/pseuds/curiouslyblessed
Summary: A boring evening of cocktails and new money turns into something else entirely when Elmer Joy's childhood friend George takes him out for a night on the town...





	Happy Days Are Here Again

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing a Buster Keaton short! (I figured that I'd watched enough of them to write one, lol.) Anyways, George is Cliff Edwards, Happy is Buster, and Rosie is an OC who's never really had a face character I really liked. (If you must picture someone, Miesha Taylor but with curly red hair and some tattoos and scars.) Concrit is always welcome and I hope you enjoy!!

There were four separate places that Elmer Joy could think of that he’d rather be than sipping cocktails at the local Ritz Carlton. They were, in no particular order: the dentist, a crematorium, his Aunt Myrtle’s house, or a tea party with every female investor his father could muster up.

“As I was saying,” his father continued, “our sales are up almost ten thousand this quarter.” He took a smug sip of his drink. “And it looks like we’re going to be up even more next quarter! Isn’t that right, Elmer?”

He nodded. “Every child in America will have at least one Joy’s toy before the year is out.”

“See, even _Elmer_ knows.” He gave his son a hearty clap on the back. “And if Elmer knows, _everyone_ knows.”

Elmer took the opportunity to excuse himself and wandered through the press of people. His mother was schmoozing a new investor and his younger brother was schmoozing a new girl. This one promised to be another gold digger if the last four were anything to go by. There was no one to escape the crowd with.

“Happy!”

The use of his childhood nickname startled him. He turned to see George Lewis winding his way toward him.

“Oh my God, it is you!” George embraced him with the same childlike enthusiasm that he’d shown eating paste in the first grade. “I can’t believe that you’re here of all places. And after all these years.” He shook his head. “What’ve you been up to?”

Happy shrugged. “This, mostly. You remember of Joy’s Toys?”

“No! You’re not—I can’t believe I never knew it was you! Your family is that family.” His shook his head again, this time with more enthusiastic disbelief.

“George, we toured the factory in fourth grade. Your father is one of our investors.”

“I dunno, I guess it just never clicked. It has been a _long_ time.”

“It’s been less than five years but okay. How have you been?”

“Just dandy. Did you hear I changed my name?”

“Oh?

“I’m George Luxor now.” He rocked back on his heels, almost spilling his half-empty drink. “Kinda snappy, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But isn’t that that hotel place in Las Vegas.”

George made a vague dismissive gesture. “Maybe. I’ve never heard of it. Listen,” he leaned in and Happy could smell the alcohol on his breath, “you wanna get outta this snore-fest? I know a place where something _fabulous_ is going to happen tonight.”

He glanced at his father. Joe Joy was laughing at something one of his business partners in a way that suggested it was the worst joke he’d ever heard. His mother was still trying to hook a new investor and his brother was still trying to hook a new girlfriend. “Why not?”

“A place where something _fabulous_ is going to happen” proved to be a dive bar in the warehouse district.

Happy felt distinctly out of place in his white tie and tails. “Where are we?”

“Just the best fight in town.” George undid his tie. “It’s gunna be, as the kids say, _lit_.”

“I’m not sure you used that right.”

“Who cares, let's go in.”

“Dressed like this?”

“Why not? They don’t have a dress code here!” He adjusted his hat to a suitably jaunty angle and pushed through the double doors.

“George,” he pleaded, “this is the worst idea you’ve had since you tried to seduce Miss Katz in the twelfth grade.”

“Miss Katz adored me,” George sighed, “besides, they look so welcoming here.”

There were three drunks at the bar, a selection of seedy looking characters spread liberally around the half-empty tables, and a few girls of questionable origins. A makeshift boxing ring stood in the center of the room.

“George.” He grasped his friend’s arm. “This is a fight. You brought me to an underground boxing match at a dive bar? What if someone recognizes me?”

“What are you going on about? No one is going to recognize you here. No one has any interest in toys here unless, of course, they’re adult toys—hey! There’s a business idea for your father.”

“Please don’t give him ideas.”

“Listen,” he slung his arm around Happy’s shoulders, “no one knows you here and even if they did would it really be the worst thing in the world?”

“Well, no, but I don’t think this is really the kind of place where you wanna get recognized.”

One of the drunks at the bar stumbled over to them and grabbed George’s shoulder for support. George, who was three drinks from being sober, crumbled under the unexpected weight and fell to the floor taking Happy and the drunk with him.

The drunk was the first to right himself. He pulled Happy up off the floor. “H-Hold on. Isn’t this man here—this man—isn’t he heir to some toy company?” He grabbed George again, this time pulling him upright instead of knocking him over. “I sawn—seen him on the television last week. You were talking to that one interviewer with the massive t--” he hiccuped in the middle of his sentence. “Massive.” He shook his head. “Absolutely just _hic_ huge. I bet she’s just great in person.”

Happy tried to steady the man. “Mary is a talented interviewer and a friend. Who are you?”

“My name is Augie Winchester. My brothers and my sister are putting on the fight tonight. Listen, still, I guess, your toys were my favorite thing as a kid. Those fris-buy things, y’know the ones you throw at things… people. You throw them at other people. Fun.” He nodded enthusiastically. “The best ever.” Augie clutched his arm. “You’re my _favorite person ever_.”

“That’s nice, son. Now, why don’t you head on up to the bar and get a nice cool glass of water and maybe a black coffee on me.” He tucked a twenty into his hand. “Maybe sober up a little bit before the fight starts.”

“Go-od idea. Wouldn’t want to miss Rosie beat the piss out of some poor slob. Not again, anyway.” Augie made a less than graceful exit, tripping over two chairs and another drunk before he reached the bar and ordered a tall glass of water and a large coffee.

Happy shook his head. “A lady boxer?”

George shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you.” He squinted at the placard advertising the fight. “’Miss Rosie Winchester vs. Whoever Will Fight Her.’ Sounds a bit saucy if you ask me. But she looks a little saucy, too.”

The sole occupant of the ring had hair just as red as her brother’s, but that was where the familial resemblance ended. She was slight where her brother was burly, freckled where her brother was not, and sober where he was drunk. She stretched first her left arm and then her right, pulling them each to the side in turn, and took a few experimental swings at the air. The roses tattooed up and down her arms rippled with each graceful punch.

Happy paled at the thought of her hitting anything. “She’s… something.”

“Isn’t she, though?” He sighed. “I envy the lucky idiot who gets to fight her.”

Another redhead entered the ring. He had a quick word with Rosie before turning to face his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, I crave your attention!” He waited for the meager crowd to gather. “The festivities are about to begin! My name is Adoniyah Winchester and I have a proposition for you. Tonight, one of you fine people will go home with two cases of the finest _legally brewed_ moonshine available in your fair state of Texas.”

A few of the drunker patrons stirred at the mention of free alcohol.

“That’s right, folks, one lucky person will go home with two cases of ninety-proof homebrew for their personal enjoyment. And to win this amazing prize, you must do one thing and one thing only.” He let his words hang in the air, letting the crowd stew for a moment before he answered. “To win this prize valued at over one thousand dollars, you must fight my little sister and win.” He made a grand gesture at Rosie and she flexed her biceps and blew kisses to the crowd.

A general hush fell over the room, only broken when one of the drunks dropped his glass.

“Come now! Surely one of you fine gentlemen can’t balk at fighting one little girl—and for such a purse!”

Happy watched in horror as George’s hand shot up.

“I’ll fight her!” He ripped the top hat from his head and waved it at Adoniyah. “I’ll fight Rosie!”

He yanked his friend’s arm down. “What are you doing? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Did you not hear what the man said the prize was? Two whole cases of grade A hard liquor worth a thousand bucks and all for one little fight. Besides, look at her, it’ll be one round—tops!”

“Listen, George, I am looking at her. You’re going to die.”

“Oh, shut up. You never were any fun.” He pushed him away. “I’ll fight her! I’ll fight!”

Adoniyah pointed at him. “We have a contestant! And an eager one at that. Tell me, son, what’s your name?”

George, still a little drunk, giggled at being called son. “George Luxor.”

“The professional gambler?” He pulled him into the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a local celebrity in our midst! Well, Mr. Luxor, what odds do you give yourself in this situation?”

“Good ones.”

Rosie covered her mouth with her hand. “Naturally.”

“Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“Just my oldest and bestest friend, Happy Joy!” He waved.

“A man so fond of the cards that he named himself after a casino and a man so happy they named him for it twice—a fine pair.” He chuckled. “Now, tell me, what will you wager against our fine homebrew?”

“What will I what?”

“Let me put it this way, friend. If you win you get the alcohol. What does my sister get if we win?”

He licked his lips. “Oh, uh, I’m a little l-light at the moment,” he glanced at Happy, all the while making a show of searching his pockets, “but, uh, I have—uh, if Rosie wins she can, uh—kiss Happy.”

Adoniyah Winchester turned to his sister. “Well?”

She peered through the dim, smoke-filled air of the bar. “Which one is Happy again?”

“The one in a white tie and tails,” said George.

He gave a tight smile and waved. “I’m going to kill him,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

She returned the smile with a warm grin that pulled at the scars on her face. “I accept.”

The fight was quick. As George had predicted, it only lasted one round. To his credit, however, he got in a few good punches and managed to split Rosie’s lip. But the minute her knuckles met his jaw, he careened backward and met the floor with a loud slap. The last time Happy saw him was when Adoniyah hoisted him over his shoulder and made a beeline for the bar.

Rosie jumped from the ring and pushed her way through the retreating crowd. She stopped just short of him. “My name is Rosie and I’ve come to collect my prize.”

He swallowed. “I’m Happy and I guess I’m your prize.”

She tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and looked him up and down. “I guess you are.”

Rosie Winchester was even more intimidating up close. Every inch of exposed skin was crisscrossed with tattoos and scars—the most spectacular of which were the scars that stretched from the corners of her mouth almost to her ears and the roses that ran the length of her arms and met with her collarbones. She undid her hair and made a show of putting it back in a no-nonsense bun.

“What are you g-going to do to me?”

“Don’t sound so scared, rich boy, I’m just going to collect my prize.”

He bristled at the nickname. “How did you know I was rich?”

“You wore a white tie to a dive bar. It’s kinda obvious.” She rocked back slightly with her hands clasped behind her back. “Besides, the only Joys around here are those shysters who own Joy’s Toys. I’ve met your father.”

“Oh?”

“He made a pass.” She rolled her eyes. “In front of your mother.”

“Sounds like him.”

“So, about my prize.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with good humor. “When am I gunna get it?”

He licked his lips. “There are so many people around and everyone is staring at you and--”

She silenced him mid-sentence with a kiss. “Shut up,” she murmured into his lips.

He twisted his hands together, unsure of what to do with them as she buried her hands in his hair. The kiss lasted for what felt forever and he enjoyed every second until--

“Damn.” She pulled away. “I don’t think I ever enjoyed a purse so much.” She gave him a quick peck. “You wanna try for round two, rich boy?”

He coughed and pushed her away. “Not in front of all these people.”

She shrugged. “Too bad. You’re awful good at this.” She pressed her lips to his a second time, this time, however, it only lasted a second. Rosie sighed. “Guess I’ll see you around, Happy.”

“Yeah.” His voice was inexplicably hoarse. “I guess you will.”

She stole one last kiss. “Good.”


End file.
